EXPERIENCES OF MR. STALE, 
way, pretending to dry them, for they are not 
wet, and they both know that very well ! The lady now 
says, “ Rengai), your moustache is wet” (how did she 
know that, eh ?), and she commenced to twist it with 
her fingers, until it becomes nicely pointed and turn(?d 
up. She then puts her band into a hole in the wall, 
and pulls out a small looking-glass, about three 
inches square; this she holds in front of her face, 
and the inspection seems satisfactory, for she merely 
gives her cloth a pull up, under the chin, adjusts a 
stray lock of hair, by fixing it in behind the ear, 
and then hands the glass to Ringon. During the 
brief process of handing it, some other process 
must have taken place, for when he looks into it he 
Bees his moustache is all out of trim, which neces- 
sitates a further twisting up, until the lady recollects 
that she has some bees-wax, and just allow her to 
do if, she will soon make the moustache keep in 
position, and not be always getting out of order on 
the slightest attempt at touching it ! So the boy 
becomes quite passive in her hands, sits quietly under 
the operation she performs, and she seems to understand 
it quite. Oh, Minatchi ! Now% “they say, ” or rather 
we have been told, that it is wonderful how time 
passes away when a loving couple are engaged in 
these foolish and trifling blandishments, but cannot 
say for certain, having had no personal experiences 
of this silly behaviour. After they had been sittingat 
that stick fire for, some time, the voice of the kitch- 
en cooly is heard shouting out, ‘ Appya Durai — ^ 
although what the cooly intended to tell him, or 
what the master wanted, the boy never waited to 
hear; with a bound he was out and off, round by 
the back of the bungalow into the kitchen, his 
turban and jacket on, in less than no time. “Com- 
ing, sar,” shouts our rare boy, as he presents 
himself in presence of master, with as staid and com- 
posed a demeanour as if he had just risen up from 
off his mat. “Now, boy,” says master ; I have been 
calling you for the last ten minutes, where have 
you been to “Roasting and pounding coffee at the 
far end of the kitchen verandah” was the reply — “did 
not hear master call.” The kitchen cooly is listening 
behind the verandah corner, and when he hears the 
reply of the boy, runs off ; he is quite prepared now 
for any amount of questioning. He knows what to 
say, anyhow. After a little, master calls for a flre- 
stick, which the kitchen cooly brings. While lighting 
his pipe, he says quite in an off-hand, careless way, 
“ Where was Rengan, when I called him so often 
to-day? He w'as down at the lines, wasn’t he, making 
lore to Minatchi?” “Oh, no,” replies the kitchen 
